Chapter 18
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Two days after Titus had made an ass of himself and butchered his proposal, the entire world seemed to know about it. Well—the proposal, that was, not the pitiful manner in which it had been conducted.
It wasn't that Titus intended to keep it a secret, no, but Titus did regret how quickly everyone caught wind of the engagement. Regis, naturally, instantly noticed the ring on Ignis' hand, giddily so, and then Clarus was smirking away, and then of course the entire council knew, and then after that the secretaries knew, and from there word spread to the Crownsguard, and from there to the Glaives.
It was inevitable, yes, this he had known all along.
Ignis sensibly did not attend council that first morning after, as was often the case after tumultuous events, but Regis and Clarus had been leering all the same.
Titus looked around for Cor; didn't see him.
Cor also sat out on council, and that hurt like hell because Titus could only imagine that Cor was sitting in his car out in the parking garage, head pressed into the steering wheel and trying not to die.
Titus was distracted easily enough when council ended, and Regis hobbled up to him. Regis was sneering away, Clarus sneering right along with him, and Regis cheerily said, "Titus! Stay with me for a moment, won't you? Come take a walk with an old man."
Titus glared gently, but obeyed all the same.
Clarus stayed a pace behind them as they began striding slowly down the hall, and Titus wasn't blind to everyone glancing at him as they passed. Regis, for his part, glanced over very frequently, studying him and perhaps judging him, and Titus could really only stay silent and wait for Regis' verdict.
In hindsight, Titus should have asked Regis' permission before asking Ignis, for Regis in some manner or another owned Ignis and was the only one that could truly give away his hand. Titus was painfully aware of that suddenly, as Regis leered at him.
But Regis was the one who set this entire thing into motion, and so he bore some responsibility as well. Knew it, no doubt, for he didn't seem cross when he finally spoke up and said, airily, "Titus, you look quite dashing today. Something about you seems different. Don't you agree, Clarus?"
Titus narrowed his eyes, stayed stoic, and behind them, Clarus snorted.
"Indeed, highness. It's very noticeable."
Put on the spot, Titus griped, "I don't know what you mean."
Regis was the one to snort then, and said, eagerly, "You're positively glowing, Captain. You look so much younger suddenly. As if something were giving you great joy."
An awful rush of warmth to his cheeks, despite his best efforts.
Titus could do little else than just grit and bare it, because, hell, the jerks were probably right. Titus may have looked different, because he felt different. Seemed as if he were bouncing around in the clouds, unable to come down, and observant Regis of course would notice.
At Titus' persistent silence, Regis leered ever more, and tread out, "It seems contagious. I spied Ignis this morning, trailing after Noctis, and he was smiling so hard I was surprised he didn't crash right into the wall. Must be something going around."
Well, that was nice to hear, actually. After Ignis had nearly given Titus a coronary by freezing up as he had.
Regis smiled away, and called, "Clarus! Did you notice anything different about Ignis this morning?"
Clarus playfully 'hm'ed, and then dragged out Titus' torment by very slowly uttering, "Well... Now that you mention it, sire, I suppose I did. That is, I was passing very quickly, but I thought I saw, and perhaps I was mistaken, but I thought I saw Ignis without gloves. For the first time."
Titus clamped his jaw, and wondered if Ignis had subconsciously been so excited to show off his ring that he had just set his gloves aside.
Regis snorted, and added, "Indeed, I noticed that as well. Did have something else on his hand, however."
"As I noticed, too, Majesty. Something that looked suspiciously like a ring."
"As I thought. I wonder where it came from."
"A most intriguing mystery, indeed."
"Ignis doesn't seem the type to buy himself a ring, does he, Clarus?"
"Hardly. Someone else must have put it there."
Titus' lips were so pursed they must have no longer been visible, brow crinkled and teeth clenched, and he started walking faster, intentionally leaving crippled Regis several paces behind.
In response, Regis raised his voice, for the entire hallway to hear, as he said, "Indeed! Someone was quite brazen! Love is truly powerful."
Titus winced a bit, conceded to Regis, and slowed right back down before the old bastard humiliated him in front of the entire world. Regis smirked ever away, and happily lowered his voice again once Titus was once more in pace with him.
...it had been brazen, though, to bypass the King.
Which was why Regis was tormenting him and also why Titus was taking it. Perhaps he deserved it.
Clarus led the conversation a bit by asking, "Is his Majesty angry that someone would ask Ignis' hand without royal permission?"
A rush of adrenaline.
Couldn't fathom what he would do if Regis actually denied him permission to wed, and maybe Regis saw that sudden crinkle in his brow and how he abruptly swallowed.
Titus' ego and pride were the most important things; Regis' denial would crush them, and it would have been one of Titus' more humiliating moments, having to go to Ignis and take the ring back and say, 'Hey, sorry, I forgot to ask permission first.' Woulda keeled over.
A short silence, and then Regis said, in a much softer voice, "Perhaps I should be. But seeing Ignis so happy, I can't help but feel rather excited instead."
Titus slowed his pace that time instead, at last turning his head to meet Regis' pale eyes. Regis slowed to a halt, Clarus falling still behind him, and Titus could really only wait for Regis' final judgment.
Regis stared right through Titus, Titus didn't flinch, and Regis seemed to settle the matter at last by saying, quite serenely, "Perhaps I should thank you, Captain. It will give me great joy to officiate a wedding in my lifetime, and of someone I care so deeply for. I shall give my son away to you, as it is, for Ignis is my second. I'm happy for you, as well. That you seemed to have found what you needed."
Astounded and speechless, Titus could only stand there for a dumb moment, earning another snort from Clarus, and then he placed his hand over his heart and bowed at the waist.
Permission granted.
Well...almost. For Ignis had two surrogate fathers, and one was far less easily placated.
Regis suddenly tilted his head, and uttered, "Clarus, what about you? Are you angry that someone has asked for Ignis' hand without permission?"
Clarus, less forgiving than Regis, crossed his arms, stared Titus down, and said, playfully but also seriously, "Yeah. I am. I'm positively offended, in fact."
Titus sneered as Regis smiled, and Regis tutted, "Dear me! What shall we do now? I desperately wanted a wedding."
Clarus lifted his chin, and grunted, "You know, back in my day, if a man wanted to ask for someone's hand, he had to be willing to get into a fistfight to prove himself."
Titus scoffed, splayed out a little bit, and meant it when he said, "If you desire an ass-kicking, I'll gladly give you one."
"Overconfidence is the number one cause of death in males," Clarus droned, very unimpressed.
Regis clapped a hand on Clarus' shoulder, and teased, "Come now, Clarus! The man is willing and ready. Should that not account for something?"
"No. I dare say not. Just means he's too damn hotheaded and arrogant. Not good husband material."
They were having a go at him, ripping him to shreds as he knew they would, and Titus still stood there all the same and took it, perhaps because he was still so stunned himself that this was even happening. Maybe, even, at some level he was grateful for their teasing, because it gave him more confidence that none of this had been a mistake.
That somehow, someway, this could really work.
Clarus continued to stare Titus down, and even though it was a game, Titus gave a great, heavy sigh, and gave Clarus what he wanted.
Submission.
Clarus was kidding, but then he also wasn't, and Titus wasn't looking for a tag team of Clarus and Gladiolus swinging great swords at him for being inappropriate. Because god forbid anyone ask Gladiolus' second sister for their hand in marriage without coming by to grovel first. So Titus held his tongue, bowed at the waist, lowered his head, and silently asked for permission, if only because doing so would make his like a hell of a lot easier.
To get the old bastard off his back.
Clarus reached out and slapped the top of Titus' head, smartly, but then rested his palm atop Titus' hair, relenting, "You bastard. I can't ruin the party now. Ignis would be the one dragging me into a fistfight."
As good as he would get from Clarus.
When Clarus removed his palm a moment later, Titus straightened up, smirked a little, and teased, "Does this make you my father-in-law, dad?"
Clarus shuddered.
"I've got my eye on you, boy," Clarus warned for the second time, and Titus scoffed.
Regis was positively beaming, as if it were Noctis being married off.
All seemed settled, then.
Clarus suddenly laughed, and reached out to jostle Regis' shoulder.
"Hey! You have something for me?"
A sigh from Regis, who reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Titus watched silently as Regis took out some bills and placed them rather huffily into Clarus' palm, and knew immediately the assholes had had another bet, as the council likely did.
Rolling his eyes, Titus gave in to curiosity and asked, gruffly, "What was it this time?"
"How long it would take you to propose," Clarus drawled, as he stuffed the money in his breast pocket. "My optimism paid off. Regis here doubted you; said it would take you at least two years after the move in."
Titus lidded his eyes, sneered, and griped, "Thanks for having faith in me."
Clarus winked, and the torment was ended when everyone parted ways.
When Titus crossed Ignis later on in the hall, Titus could see that Regis had been right.
Ignis was positively beaming, lit up and bright, and it was so unusual to see stoic Ignis like that that people naturally stared. Titus stared, too, because he felt proud, as any man would. Ignis caught Titus' eye, his smile softened, and they spent a good long second staring at each other peacefully from opposite ends of the hall.
And then Monica rounded the corner on Ignis' end, her eyes flew right down to Ignis' hand, and her mouth dropped open. Like Cor, Monica was very stoic, very composed, very able to suppress emotion and remain blank, but Monica was also just a woman, as Cor was just a man, and Titus winced a bit when Monica gave a short, sharp yelp of excitement. Just a woman, alright, and most women shrieked when they saw engagement rings. Monica looked up at Ignis, back down, back up, and then came that expected shriek, high-pitched and piercing.
Titus bailed quickly, right when Monica leapt forward and grabbed Ignis' hand to yank it up and examine the ring.
Nope! No way was she tackling Titus too there in that hallway.
Titus ducked into the safety of his office, and spent the day hunkered down. His phone buzzed shortly after, and Titus snorted a bit when he saw a text from Monica.
'Congratulations! May I have a role in the ceremony?'
Titus rolled his eyes, but texted her back an affirmative, and imagined that she was squealing somewhere in her own office.
The Glaives, that very first day, had yet no knowledge.
The next day was a different story, not just for the Glaives but also for Cor.
Cor came to council that day, and Titus' eyes immediately fell atop him. Cor couldn't meet Titus' gaze, and stared at the table beneath him. His eyelids were red, the circles dark under his eyes. He hadn't shaved. His hair was a mess, sticking upright and out. His shoulders were slumped, and his gait rather graceful as he had entered, as if he were a ghost gliding about. Looked as if he hadn't slept in two days. Looked defeated.
Looked lost.
Titus hated the sight of it.
Cor was the most stern, impervious, stoic man Titus had ever met, and seeing that break in his composure was far too much to stomach. Seein' Cor like that, and knowing that it was his fault...
Hurt.
During the entire council, Cor stared blankly down, and seemed quite lost up in space.
Despite Titus beseeching from Cor that they would hang out again as they once had, after their previous reconciliation they had only ever gone out one more time. Twice in nearly three years, when sometimes before they had gone out twice every single day.
This was just another obstacle between them, but one that Titus wouldn't apologize for.
Cor sat there at the table long after council ended, and Titus debated it, mulled it over, and decided that this wasn't the time or place, and so he walked out without saying a single word to Cor. He did, at the very last moment, gather up the courage to reach out and gently touch Cor's shoulder in passing.
Dazed Cor didn't flinch, and didn't stir.
Titus regretted that.
He went to headquarters, and by then of course the Glaives knew, and they were all smiles when Titus walked through the door.
Pelna was the first to speak, calling out, happily, "Congratulations, Captain!"
"Hear, hear," Crowe added, and the others offered their own platitudes.
Nyx just stared at Titus, and Titus could have sworn he saw just a bit of fondness there on Nyx's face. And Titus was also very certain that he felt his own bit of fondness for Nyx, and that was disgusting, thanks a lot. Ugh, better not to think about it.
Luche studied Titus, and then asked, "Formal request for a wedding invitation, sir."
Titus lidded his eyes and looked shameless Luche up and down before grunting, "Denied."
Luche snorted, and didn't seem offended because most of these Glaives that Titus favored likely already knew that they would be standing there in the ceremony, guarding various doors and therefore essentially guests.
Titus fell into his head as the day dragged, and no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, it seemed he only ever thought about Cor.
Oh, how he just wanted to ask. Wouldn't Cor have asked him, if their roles were reversed? Cor was strict and merciless and would have asked Titus even if he had known it would have broken Titus' heart, and therefore was it so wrong of Titus to do the same?
He faltered, for fear of once more pushing Cor away.
Later on that evening, Titus received a far more unexpected text, from Noctis of all people.
'Congrats. Ignis is happier than I've ever seen him. If you screw it up I'll ram a royal arm up your ass.'
The nerve! Punk-ass kid, speaking to the Captain like that. One day Noctis would learn the hard way that being a Prince didn't mean you were immune from being punched right in the face.
Titus sneered at his phone, and scoffed. Wasn't that Gladiolus' line, anyway? Being the overprotective knight?
Because he had no choice, Titus just grumpily texted back, 'Noted, Highness.'
Noctis replied with an annoying string of emoticons, and for the millionth time in what felt like as many years, Titus bitched in his head about kids these days. He tossed his phone aside, and when he trudged home, Ignis' pretty smile made everyone's nosiness worthwhile.
Still, Titus griped, "Tell your friends that just because I serve them, it doesn't mean I won't hurt them."
Ignis snorted, and asked, "Gladio or Noct?"
"The latter."
"I'll get right on that," Ignis drawled, clearly having no intention at all to follow through.
Titus asked then, "Is your finger still attached, or has Monica accidentally ripped it off, as many times as she pulls it up?"
Ignis happily lifted his hand, Titus' ring glinting there like the flag on the mountaintop, and Titus smirked. Nothing a man liked seeing more than the fruits of his labor.
Titus' ego, however, received a good kick to the teeth the following day, and in the worst possible manner.
Minding his own business in the Citadel, tucked away in his office and dutifully catching up on paperwork. Titus was very startled by the knock on his office door, and his voice might have cracked when he called, "Come in."
Everyone seemed ready to tear him to shreds over this engagement.
And Titus was very, very sure that he paled four shades when the door open and Cor walked in.
Holy shit—
At his side, Titus' wrist went stiff, ready, just in case. He deserved an ass-kicking, yeah, he did, but if Cor was summoning arms then, so was Titus. He'd take a fistfight without putting up much resistance, but he had a goddamn wedding to plan and needed his head attached to his shoulders to do that.
Cor looked just as rough then as he had the prior morning, and they stared at each other in silence. Very long, and very heavy, that awful silence.
Cor took a step forward then, lowered his eyes, bowed his head ever so slightly, and said, in a voice that shook, "Congratulations."
Titus' face fell.
A rush of guilt, hurt, searing through his veins like fire. All ego, all pride, all sense of accomplishment, gone, all of it gone, with one bow of Cor's pitiful head. Just guilt then, shame, hurt.
Poor bastard.
Titus stared at Cor, aghast and shamed, and Cor didn't lift his head. Kept it bowed there, kept his eyes low, and Titus was fairly certain that that was just because Cor couldn't bring himself to look at Titus then.
A long hesitation, and then Cor continued, voice ever deeper, rougher, breaking and sometimes giving out altogether.
"I know that I've been difficult. I know I didn't handle it the right way. I'm sorry for that. But I— I was never angry with you. I wasn't. I was angry with myself. We've always been together. We've always done everything together. And I know what you wanted to say, that day—" A scrunch of Cor's brow, a very quick blinking, a hesitation as he gathered himself. "If you don't want me there now, I'll understand. I'll accept it gladly, for the way I've behaved. But if you decide not to ask me just because you think I'm angry with you, don't. If you don't want to ask me, that's fine and reasonable. But don't refuse to ask if it is only because you think I don't want you to. Because that's not the way things are. I— However things have happened, I never wished to push you away. I didn't know what else to do. If you could forgive me, I would... It would be my honor, to stand beside you, because always in my heart have I called you brother."
It was Titus who was suddenly blinking too quickly, who swallowed, whose jaw clenched, because when he looked at Cor, he would forever and always see the only person who had ever truly wanted him in this city. The only person that had never looked at him differently. The only person that had sought him out and wanted to be near him. One of the five people that day who had raised their hand.
Cor's head was ever low, and Titus opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
An image in his head, a memory, of looking up as Cor threw a jacket over his shoulders.
It came from nowhere, that urge, and Titus leapt up from his desk, so furiously that his chair fell over backwards, and Cor braced himself. Stiffened up, clenched his fists, and seemed very ready for a punch. Hardly; Titus was on Cor in a second, yeah, but only because he was so desperate to hug that miserable son of a bitch. Titus was very certain that he had never embraced anyone as tightly as he did Cor in that moment, and Cor was as stiff as a board there in his arms, likely from shock. Titus buried his face in Cor's collar, and clung to him for all he was worth.
Once, this man had taken up a razor to Titus' hair without asking a single question when Titus had broken down.
Cor broke out of his stupor, and returned the embrace with such ferocity that they tottered for a moment, nearly toppling into a heap. Titus steadied them somehow, and it Cor who spoke first, as he pressed his face into Titus' shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."
For what?
Titus hadn't done anything wrong, no, but neither had Cor. They were both bullheaded, stubborn, stern men, and they had had a clashing, that was all. Brothers fought all the time, but at the end of the day would still take up arms for each other.
Titus was too proud to say that, and so instead, after a silence, he risked it and asked, as softly as he could, "Will you be my best man?"
Cor couldn't speak, and so merely nodded there in Titus' shoulder.
Titus raised one hand to the back of Cor's neck, pressing him so furiously into his shoulder that Cor was probably thinking Titus was actually attempting to suffocate him at long last. They stood for a very long while, embracing, and Titus pressed Cor's face there into his shoulder because, to be quite frank, he didn't want to know if Cor was crying, because then he would have cried, and it would have been embarrassing to the both of them. Best just to aggressively hug it out.
It felt like a long half hour later before Titus felt it safe enough to lower his hand, and Cor leaned back. Cor's eyes were red, bleary, and it was likely that Titus' were, too. They were too proud to acknowledge it, and so Titus reached up and slapped Cor's cheek, smartly, and teased, "Don't you come to my goddamn wedding looking a wreck, you hear?"
Cor scoffed, punched Titus right in the kidney, the jerk, and griped, "You're one to talk! I'll be the only one between us who shows up looking like they're going to a wedding and not a bar. Everyone will think you're the goddamn janitor and not the groom."
"Fuck you."
Cor's hand one was the one to fly up to the back of Titus' neck then, and he slammed their foreheads together so smartly that Titus swore he saw a star or two, but he and Cor had always been very aggressive in their affection, as some men were. They were too aloof and proud to be soft, and so Cor headbutting him to hell then was sort of Cor's violent version of Ignis kissing him on the forehead.
No less meaningful, just far more painful.
Their heads pressed together for a long while, saying everything they needed to without uttering a single word more, and when Cor finally pulled back, he gently bumped Titus' chest with his fist. Titus smiled at Cor, and Cor left.
With that, Titus felt he could begin fully this new chapter.
Weaving in this new thread, as it was, amongst the many others Titus had splayed across his fingers.
All these threads, running here and there, crossing and looping. To Regis, to Ignis, to Cor, these threads all formed some great tapestry. Colorful, bright, the story of their lives and their calling, neatly spun together for the entire world to see, each thread shining against the dark.
There was a story unfolding, yes, across these threads, but the base wasn't a tapestry.
It was Titus' ever increasingly complex spider web.
Keeping Cor close, keeping Ignis closer, sending Nyx here, Luche there, crossing them when he needed to, watching Libertus' thread knot up in Crowe's, sensing the tension in Tredd's thread, Monica's airily swaying, Clarus' ever hanging there just above his son's, Regis' there in the middle, holding it all together but ever fraying.
So many, and so hopelessly convoluted.
Only Titus knew which thread to pull when the time was right, and the web would fall, unravel, turning into a net and capturing those within in.
Titus put all of his effort into weaving this web, had been crafting it thread by thread for these fifteen long years past, and it was beautiful.
But, oh—
Trying to keep Ignis from getting tangled was the most frightening part of it all. How to keep Nyx and Cor and Ignis' feet free, when the time came.
Titus knew that some lives were wrapped up far too tightly for there to be escape; Clarus', for example, as the Shield of the King. Clarus would never let Regis come to harm while he still drew breath, and Titus knew that, at the end, Clarus was not going to survive the fall. The council would surely be all but annihilated, although Titus would try his best to have a care for the three councilmen that had raised their hands along with Titus and Cor that day. He kept a handful in the light, while knowing that others were doomed. Titus would give his best effort to allow Monica and Iris to escape, innocent as they were, but many of the Crownsguard would not, and some of his own Glaives would have to be sacrificed.
In a perfect world, only Regis would have fallen, but things couldn't be that simple.
Life wasn't fair, and some people soon would find that out.
But not Ignis; Titus would burn the rest of the world if he had to, to make it so.
This engagement was only one more loop, one more string, which Titus could easily juggle and pull alongside the others.
He was used to pulling everyone's strings; his own were just a bit easier.
Oblivious to restless Titus spinning dutifully away, the rest of the city carried on, and the buzz in the papers about a wedding was strong. Everyone and their mother had noticed Ignis' ring by then, and the Glaives naturally asked Titus a million questions, not a single one of them that he answered.
Good gods; Crowe had asked him eleven times now for an invitation. Eleven, and it hadn't even been eleven days yet since word had broken.
On the actual eleventh day of everyone knowing, there was a development.
One a very, very long time coming :
Titus broke a Glaive's leg, with intent and malice a forethought. Well; malice was a strong word. As far as Titus was concerned, it was his obligation as Captain to run a tight ship, and it had been well earned.
In all technicality, it wasn't truly a full-fledged Glaive whose leg he had broken, but rather a recruit in training. All the same to the Crown, however, in terms of paperwork.
The man had been there for all of two weeks, one of the newest on the scene, some young punk that had come from Cleigne, and Titus had thought little of him until Titus had come out of his office and overheard the kid utter to the others, "And, I mean, you guys don't find it, I dunno...weird? Like, it doesn't bother you at all, workin' under a, well, ya know."
Titus arched his brows, drolly, and Pelna was the first to notice Titus lingering there in the doorframe. Pelna winced so visually and sharply that Titus was actually shocked when the recruit didn't notice it and kept blabbing.
"I mean, you know what I mean. I ain't tryin' to be rude or nothin' but doesn't it kinda make ya nervous? When your superior is a homo? Like, how do you ever go in the showers? Is it just me? It's creepy, right?"
Nyx looked uncomfortable, alright, but not for the reason the recruit was, and then suddenly Nyx's eyes had snapped up and he too saw Titus. Nyx leaned back, blew air through his teeth, seemed aghast, and it was Tredd who scuffed his boot in boredom and drawled, "Nice knowin' ya, kid."
The recruit finally glanced back, to see Titus leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and face very condescending. The recruit paled several shades, eyes widening, and Luche lifted his chin to Titus in silent acknowledgment.
The silence then was very long and very heavy, and Titus finally uttered, so matter-of-factly, "Well, if we're being very specific, I am actually bisexual. And I assure you, you are the farthest thing from my type." A few shades paler, and Titus turned his eyes to Luche, who also swung both ways, and asked, "Luche, what do you think of that?"
Luche and Titus stared at each other, communicating as easily now without words about as well as Titus and Cor did, and Luche finally replied, very softly and calmly, "I think I should call the hospital and inform them of the impending arrival."
"You always know the right answer."
For the first time in a long while, Titus smiled widely enough in front of his men to show his teeth, because he was actually really fuckin' happy—goddamn, it had been so long since the last time.
At his rather toothy grin, so foreign to them, several of the Glaives braced up and the weaker-stomached ones turned their eyes away.
An angry Captain was scary, Pelna had always said, but a smiling one was scarier.
Crowe reached up and covered her eyes with her hands.
And not a moment too soon, really, because Titus lunged forward, grabbed the punk's collar, wrangled him down onto the ground, placed a knee into his calf, and with both hands he grabbed the recruit's ankle and easily yanked it up and snapped the tibia and fibula in one neat stroke. Didn't go for the femur that time; the offense hadn't been quite that grand. Titus wasn't really offended exactly, but felt his authority had been questioned for an illegitimate reason, and that was enough of an insubordination to earn the punishment.
Or maybe Titus was been emotionally frustrated these past few years and needed an outlet.
Happened in a damn second, before the kid even really knew what had even hit him.
The crack was very loud, and very unpleasant; even though she wasn't looking, Crowe cried out. Nyx winced as hard as Pelna had and shuddered, turning his back immediately. Luche and Tredd just leered happily away, sadistic bastards that they were, and enjoyed the show. Pelna glanced up and down, very curious but also very disgusted.
This generation of Glaives had never had the pleasure of seeing Titus snap a leg, and up until then it had been merely a rumor. Good, the old two birds with one stone. Give this ass a what for and keep his other asses in tighter rank at the same time.
The shriek came shortly after the snap, and Titus sighed quite contentedly to himself as he stood up straight.
Damn, had that felt good!
He clapped his hands together as Ignis did after a good housecleaning, felt very satisfied, and to Luche Titus breathed, "Clean this mess up."
Luche smirked, and drolled, "Yes, sir!"
The kid writhed and shrieked on the floor, his entry into the Kingsglaive officially revoked, and Titus went right back to his office to begin the necessary paperwork.
He sneered the entire while, and felt very much as if he had just come back from a weeklong vacation. The stress relief had been much needed. It was a very small slight, yes, but Titus hadn't sensed another good reason coming, and his last broken leg had been a year before Nyx and Luche had come to him. Too long, indeed. He had earned this one.
Clarus and Regis needed little more convincing, when Titus walked into the throne room later with folder in hand.
Regis lifted his brows, took it when Titus offered it, flipped quickly through it, and sighed, "I thought you had gotten this out of your system."
Clarus laughed, knowing immediately what had happened.
"It was warranted," Titus mostly honestly offered.
...mostly.
Maybe he had been a little dramatic.
Regis was so used to this that he didn't bat an eye, and handed the folder off to Clarus without even asking for an explanation. Titus very much intended to leave it there, until someone else suddenly came in.
The door burst open, with absolutely no warning, and Ignis came marching into the throne room. Actually marching, nearly stomping. Had never seen such an aggressive stride on Ignis, and his eyes were locked only on Titus.
Titus knew then that he was in for it, and braced himself.
Ah, hell! Who had told him? Bet it had been Nyx—
Sure enough, during his march Ignis shouted, in a very loud, very angry voice, "Titus Tiberius Arcadius Drautos! How dare you!"
Titus winced a bit as Ignis marched up, and glanced over at Regis and Clarus, who were gawking at Titus accordingly.
Clarus muttered, as Ignis advanced, "He knows your full name. I don't even know your full name."
Titus gave a cranky 'tch' and prepared himself for Ignis' further wrath.
Ignis came to a halt, bowed to Regis and Clarus dutifully, and immediately resumed reprimanding Titus.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself? You really broke that Glaive's leg!"
Clarus lifted his brows and gave Titus a look of bemusement, as Regis wryly smiled.
Titus feigned innocence, and said, as airily as possible, "Mm, I don't recall events happening in that manner. I'm fairly certain that he tripped near me and it happened to snap. And also, he is no longer technically a Glaive."
Clarus pursed his lips to kill his smile, but Ignis was not amused.
"Explain yourself!"
Titus scoffed, at the audacity.
Explain himself? Ignis was pressing his bounds.
There was a time and place for everything, and because Titus sensed that Ignis was truly angry, it was time to hold his ground. He loved Ignis, all the way and without waver, and for that he gave Ignis far too much leeway, but there were times when he needed to remind Ignis of his place.
This was one of those times.
Ignis was not yet the Hand of the King, and Titus remained until Noctis' ascension Ignis' superior. It was time, perhaps, to assert that fact.
Out of nowhere, and very sharply, Titus barked, "Enough!"
Clarus seemed more startled than Ignis, snapping his head over as Ignis froze utterly still, face still quite angry. As usual, Regis merely quietly observed.
Titus' voice couldn't get very harsh or loud, no, but it could get extremely frosty, very hard, very stiff, and Ignis must have felt the room near absolute zero then when Titus stared him down at full size and spoke to him as he would have any other disobedient Glaive.
"Until it is Noctis sitting here upon this throne, I am your superior. It is not your place to question me or my methods. You're very out of line. You're a soldier; you should explain yourself for breaking rank. I give you much room to be mouthy, I let you tread out farther than I should, but this time you need to be reminded of who is in charge. You are not a member of the Kingsglaive, and have no right to dictate to me how I should or should not punish those beneath me. Is that in any way unclear?"
A painfully long silence.
Titus' didn't enjoy it remotely. Unpleasant, but necessary.
The ring on Ignis' finger did not give him free reign. Titus allowed Ignis to push as he wanted, but Ignis also needed to remember that Titus was no lapdog, and pushing too far would earn a bite.
Ignis felt the teeth, loud and clear, wiped his face clean of all emotion, stiffened up into attention, and then bowed at the waist. A long hold, and then Ignis marched right back out without another word.
Good. As it should be.
Clarus whistled, when Ignis was gone and the air was less tense, and teased, "Whew! Gonna be a cold night on the couch for you."
Meh. As if. Ignis as of yet had never been able to stay mad at him, and in Titus' eyes he had done nothing wrong. Ignis had been out of line, not Titus, and therefore Ignis had no true cause to be upset, morality aside.
Regis scoffed, and muttered, "If only you could hold off on the leg-breaking. It's always you and the leg-breaking. Shame it simply gives you too much joy."
Well...
It did give Titus great joy.
What did not give him great joy was lingering outside the front door that night, gathering his courage and steeling himself for another frosty encounter. Couldn't put it off forever, and Titus eventually sighed and pushed through the door.
Ignis was sitting on the couch, and Titus was actually just glad he was there at all. Ignis didn't turn to look back at him, no, and Titus quietly crept in, removed his boots so as not to exacerbate things further, and walked into the sitting room. Ignis didn't glance up at him, scribbling away in his tactical notebook and eyes very focused.
Trying to keep himself busy, no doubt.
Titus didn't sit, and stood before him silently until stubborn Ignis finally exhaled through his nose and at last glanced up. No visible anger on Ignis' face. Just that heavy mask, ever present.
Best to get it over with.
He wouldn't apologize, wouldn't really ask Ignis to in turn, and so just uttered, in his softest voice, "In the Citadel, remember that we roles to play. Mine is superior to yours, and that's the way it's going to be, for a while. When Noctis is crowned, you're free to do with me what you will. Until then, when around members of council and the King, don't treat me like your husband."
Ignis stared very potently at him, face utterly blank and making no move.
In an effort to diffuse him, because Titus really was pathetic for Ignis, he quickly added, "But inside these walls, know that you're free to say to me whatever you will, without repercussion. Inside of these walls, I bow to you."
Sad, but true.
Ignis was ever quiet, sharp eyes flitting over Titus' face, and when Titus sat down beside of him, Ignis at last spoke up. His voice was calm, even, collected, very smooth. Just as much a mask as anything else.
"For my earlier insubordination, I do apologize."
Far too quickly, Titus grunted, "Accepted."
Ignis set his notebook aside, twisted at the waist to look at Titus, and then asked, "Am I permitted now to speak to you as your equal?"
"In here, you don't have to ask. Or any other time we are alone."
Ignis' lips twisted, his sneer very quickly appeared, and Titus started smiling because it was very easy to see in Ignis' condescending expression that he wasn't angry.
As Titus knew, Ignis just couldn't stay mad at him, and Ignis grabbed the pillow off the couch, beat Titus over the head with it, and hissed, "How dare you break that man's leg!"
Titus shielded his face from Ignis' half-hearted pillow thwacks, smirking away, and snatched it midair.
When Titus lifted his eyes above the pillow, Ignis was smiling, despite clearly trying not to, and Titus griped, playfully, "Did you have to go using my full name in front of them? Jeez, you're like my mother sometimes!"
"Then you're very well grounded!"
Titus pushed forward past the pillow, tackled Ignis into the side of the couch, and it was safe to say the fight was over before it had even begun, with the way Ignis was staring at him through lidded eyes.
Shortly after, Ignis very much purred, in that very deep rumble Titus was a sucker for, "I am furious with you, as any man morally should be. That said... I find your unpredictable and perhaps unprovoked penchant for physical violence rather...seductive."
Of course he did.
Ignis would never have thrown himself forcefully into Titus' arms if he wasn't turned on by violent, bossy, arrogant, egotistical men who went around snapping legs at the slightest insult.
"Then that says more about you than it does me," Titus murmured, as he flexed nicely for Ignis when Ignis' hands trailed down his chest. "Take your next lecture to the mirror."
Ignis grabbed Titus' collar and yanked him down, muttering, "Perhaps tomorrow. I'm busy now."
Yeah, sure he was. Join the club.
Caught up in his fantasy land and the heat of the moment, Titus focused his mind entirely on Ignis, and forgot, for just a moment in time, that Ardyn was ever lurking and always bored. Sometimes, Titus forgot that Ardyn had his own web, and could reach one long claw out and tap on Titus' to create a ripple.
One of his greater mistakes.